


And baby, I'm the walking dead

by failedcharismacheck



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Fluff, Ghosts, M/M, Pining, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failedcharismacheck/pseuds/failedcharismacheck
Summary: "Oh, come on. How exactly am I supposed to date humans? On which date am I supposed to bring up the vampire thing? 'Hey, I hope you don't have a thing for biting, unless you're ready for a literal Eternity of commitment.' You see where I'm coming from here?"(Vampire Finn! 'Supernatural' and 'next-door neighbor' were both prompts for Finn Week on tumblr so I smooshed 'em together. Leans much more What We Do in the Shadows than Twilight.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Bloodletting by Concrete Blondes

Finn doesn't have to sleep, necessarily. It's more of a hobby than a biological need, but it's one of his favorite pastimes. He slept through most of the 50's, in fact. He wakes late in the afternoon, rolls out of bed (his normal, actual bed. He doesn't sleep in a coffin or hanging upside-down from the ceiling) and peeks carefully through the heavy curtains, happy to see an overcast sky. He's supposed to go see Rey soon and a bright, sunny day would have thrown a wrench in those plans.

He stretches, takes his daily iron supplement, and walks to the bathroom to get ready. He brushes his teeth (careful around the fangs) and watches his toothbrush hover in the mirror. In the very beginning the sight was unsettling, then it was a fun novelty, and now it's come back around to be an uninteresting, normal part of Finn's everyday.

What his own face looks like is a distant memory, vague and blurry like a photograph of a thing in motion. He knows he wears two small puncture wounds on his neck, though he can't see them. The only other aspects of his appearence he's certain of are what he can see by just looking down. His body is as young as it was seventy-three years ago, though sometimes it feels old. His skin doesn't look too different from before, maybe a little cooler in tone but no paler. Vampirism doesn't take away melanin. But it's colder to the touch than a normal person's. If anyone asks, he has a rare and intense form of anemia. Usually no one asks.

Finn dons his Chicago Cubs baseball cap, shading his face from the sunlight. The Cubs have earned just one World Series championship win in the entire time that Finn has walked the earth, which is saying something, but they were still his team. He finds his large, reflective aviator sunglasses, which Rey has informed him look "a little douchey" in her words, but safety first. He's also sort of sentimentally attached. He's had those glasses since the 70's. The hood of his jacket pulled up over his hat completes his "going outside during the day" attire. He was never quite goth enough to pull off the umbrella with no rain look.

The lock on Finn's door is broken, so he has to lock it from the outside as he leaves. He'd ask the landlord to fix it, but he doesn't need a stranger in his home asking questions. Why is there no food in his kitchen? Why, the kitchen looks barely used at all, so covered in dust! Are those IV bags in his garbage, stained with a residue that looks suspiciously like blood?

"Are you secretly a celebrity?" asks a voice from the hall, halting Finn's train of thought. He looks up to see the man he'd creatively nicknamed Cute Neighbor. At least Finn thinks they're neighbors. He'd seen him around the building on multiple occasions but Finn isn't actually sure which apartment the guy lives in. But he's sure about the cute part. God, he's so cute.

Wait, he'd asked Finn a question. "Am I what?"

"I asked if you were a celebrity. Every time I see you you've got the hat and the big sunglasses. I thought maybe you were hiding from paparazzi." His smile is warm and friendly, inviting Finn in on a joke.

"Nah, I just don't deal with sun too well." If Finn had a nickel for every time he'd said that in his life (afterlife?), he would certainly have a large number of nickels.

"Hmm. Sounds like something a secret celebrity would say to keep said celebrity a secret." Cute Neighbor looks him up and down, squinting his pretty brown eyes suspiciously. "I'm onto you, buddy."

Finn would probably be blushing at the attention if he had a working cardiovascular system. "Don't you think you would have recognized me by now if I was famous?"

"You could say I'm not exactly up to date on pop culture these days," he says with a self-deprecating little smile. "Am I allowed to ask your name or will that blow your cover?"

"Finn Organa," he says after taking a moment to remember what last name he's currently using. He changes it every decade or so. "No autographs, please."

Cute Neighbor laughs, exposing a tiny and adorable gap between his front teeth and a distinct lack of fangs. "Poe Dameron. Nice to officially meet you, Finn Organa. If that is your real name."

It's not, but he doesn't have to know that. "You too, Poe Dameron."

"I'll let you get back to doing whatever it is you're secretly famous for." They exchange goodbyes and go their separate ways, and Finn keeps thinking about him for the whole walk to Rey's place. Finn's had a number of neighbors over the many years, and Cute Neighbor- Poe, Finn now knows- is definitely the cutest. He takes the longer route to Rey's in order to avoid walking by the local Catholic church. Not that he has any particular distaste for religion- he'd had a lot of time to think about it and decided he was agnostic- but that many crucifixes in one area gives off quite a powerful sting.

He reaches Rey's house and knocks on her door, hoping she lets him in quickly. The smell of the pizzeria across the street is making him a bit nauseas. Rey answers, already wearing her nurse's scrubs in preparation for the night shift at the local hospital. Nursing is the obvious best choice of profession for a witch specializing in healing magic, a tradition passed down through generations of her family. She also has a slightly worrying side-interest in pyrotechnic magics. A taste for danger also runs in the family.

"Happy ninety-sixth!" She pulls him into a tight hug. Oh right, that's today. "I got something special for you, old man." She walks off and disappears into the kitchen, leaving Finn stranded on her welcome mat. (Hers actually says "go away", but same difference.)

"Rey," Finn calls, still standing just outside the doorway. Rey's head pops back into view.

"Right! Come in, please." Finn steps over the threshold and joins her in her kitchen. "Sorry, I forget sometimes that needing to be invited in is an Actual Vampire Thing and not just you being polite."

"It's a bit of both." He takes a seat on the counter as he watches Rey move several bags of blood from her refrigerator into an insulated lunch box. Every few weeks, Rey "borrows" a few quarts of blood from work to bring to Finn. He feels lucky to have a friend loyal enough to violate a number of laws and probably the Hippocratic Oath on his behalf. It's a moral gray area, but a guy's gotta eat and it's better than just about every other alternative. Finn's a vampire but he's not a monster. He peruses Rey's shelves of potion ingredients while she's busy. The collection of odd substances seems to expand every time he visits. One of the jars makes eye contact with him and he quickly looks away. "You said you got me something special?"

Rey tosses him one of the bags, which he fumbles to catch. Vampire super-speed is a myth. He takes a closer look at the label. "AB-negative!" Things that are rare are almost always better. It's a like a different... flavor? Finn's not sure how to explain it. He hops down off the counter to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Rey. For all of this in general and also the fancy blood, specifically."

"You're very welcome, my nonagenarian friend. So how's your birthday been so far? Doing anything special?" They both sit down at the kitchen table. Finn is careful not to touch any of the sigils carved into the wood. He doesn't know what they do, but you can't be too careful.

"Just visiting you, my dear," he says. "Honestly, I stopped caring about my birthday about fifty years ago. But my day's been fine. I found out Cute Neighbor has an actual name, so that was cool."

"Nice, progress. Did you also find out if he has a phone number? Make him Cute Boyfriend instead of Cute Neighbor?"

"Nope." He rolls his eyes at the look Rey throws at him. "Oh, come on. How exactly am I supposed to date humans? On which date am I supposed to bring up the vampire thing? 'Hey, I hope you don't have a thing for biting, unless you're ready for a literal Eternity of commitment. Your expression of faith is beautiful, but could you please not wear that cross around me? By the way, how do you feel about age differences in relationships?' You see where I'm coming from?"

"You don't have to spend literal Eternity with him. You could just make out with him. That's a thing that people do," Rey counters. "You mean you really haven't dated anyone in the past century? Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course, but it seems like that's something you want."

"I've tried a few times, few and far between. It's never lasted very long. Put it this way, the last time I got laid, Bill Clinton was president." There's a joke about "sexual relations" in there somewhere but Finn doesn't feel like making it. "Vampire romance is campy book genre, not a reality."

Rey can probably see the resigned sadness underneath all the jokes. She stands and rounds the table to give Finn a hug from behind, resting her chin on top of his head. "I want you to live as happy and normal a life as you can because you're my best friend and I love you. You old, old man, you."

"I'm not exactly 'normal', Rey." He reaches up and pats her freckled cheek. It feels warm under his cold hand.

"You're as normal as I am." Finn scoffs and points to the honest-to-God literal cauldron on her stove. Whatever's in it is glowing purple and faintly humming. "Aside from the magic part, obviously."

"Thanks, Rey." Not especially reassuring, but it's the thought that counts. Now that he's thoroughly brought himself down, he decides to change the subject. Dwelling on sadness hasn't helped him once in ninety-six years. "Now, let's crack open some of that AB-neg."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is goofy and idk if i'll actually end up writing more of this but i'll do my best


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "yeah idk if i'm gonna continue this" i said before immediately starting chapter 2. Who was i kidding

Though Finn doesn't eat food, he does have to make occasional shopping trips. Soap, bleach, laundry detergent, et cetera. It's mostly cleaning supplies. Blood tends to stain.

He takes the lesser-used back stairway, a long rectangular column spiraling up the height of the building, in order to avoid running into anyone who may try to chat with him. On one hand he appreciates how friendly everyone in this apartment building seems to be. On the other hand, small talk gains a whole new level of difficulty when you don't even share a species anymore. Turns out being undead doesn't help with social anxiety.

As he descends the spiral, Finn hears what sounds like someone softly humming. Previously there was only the echoing sound of his own footsteps. It's always startling to think yourself alone and then find out otherwise, but that feeling subsides quickly. It sounds nice. Slow and low-voiced. Finn starts listening more intently for the source of the noise as he walks, which is when he trips hard over something solid and falls face first down the stairway.

Once he runs out of steps to fall down (thankfully it's a fairly short flight of stairs), Finn sits up. He looks back to see what it was he tripped over and maybe give it a piece of his mind. What he sees is Cute Neighbor himself sitting on the top step, a book in his hand and a dumbstruck look on his face before he quickly moves to help Finn up.

"Oh. Hello, Poe Dameron," Finn greets, attempting to act casual through his embarrassment, as he takes Poe's offered hand and is pulled to his feet. _Way to go,_ Finn thinks to himself. _Nothing impresses guys like walking straight into them and eating shit down a flight of stairs._

"Hi. You're not bleeding or anything are you? Nothing's hurt?" Finn waves a dismissive hand, not even bothering to check. There's not much that can hurt him. Well, quite a few things can hurt him but they're all very specific. Falling isn't on the list. Poe still looks concerned.

"Just my pride. Sorry, I didn't see you sitting there at all." How did he not see him? It was like he appeared out of nowhere.

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been in-" He stops and waves a hand vaguely towards where he was sitting. "In your way. This is kind of a weird place to hang around, anyway."

"Yeah, a little bit. Can I ask why you're here of all places?"

Poe shrugs. He stoops down to pick Finn's sunglasses up off the floor, blowing a bit of dust off the lenses before handing them back. "It's a good reading spot. Quiet. Usually people don't come this way."

"Sorry to disturb your hideaway."

"No, I don't mind. I think I'm in good company," Poe says, smiling his pretty, friendly smile.

Almost a century on Earth and Finn still hasn't figured out how to non-awkwardly accept a compliment. So he smiles back, careful not to show his fangs, and points at the book in Poe's hand. "What are you reading?" Poe holds up the worn paperback, a finger between the pages to keep his place. _Witness to Roswell: Unmasking the Government's Biggest Cover-Up._ Finn's eyebrows raise. "You believe in aliens?"

"You with the feds?" Poe asks. His tone is serious but he's unable to keep from smiling at his own joke. Finn's never understood why people say that laughing at yourself is obnoxious. He's always found it endearing. He shakes his head, confirming that no, he's not a government agent and Poe continues, "Yeah, I believe in all sorts of things. Saying with complete certainty that something does or doesn't exist is just inviting the universe to prove you wrong, in my humble opinion."

 _Do you believe in vampires?_ Finn wants to ask but doesn't. It seems a bit early for that. But it's good to know that Poe is open minded about the world. "You ever watch The X-Files?"

"No, is that a movie?" Poe asks, sitting back down on the steps.

"It's a tv show from the 90's where these two FBI agents investigate paranormal crimes. Well, there are a couple movies too but it's mainly a tv show. You mean to tell me you're into aliens and you've never heard of The X-Files?"

"Not up to date on pop culture," Poe reminds with an apologetic shrug. Finn suddenly feels very hip by comparison. Do people still say hip? He'd ask Poe but he doesn't seem like he'd know either.

"It's a great show. Kind of cheesy but great. I used to watch every episode the night they came out." Finn does some quick math and adds, "Um, when I was a little kid, that is." In actuality he was a senior citizen by that point, technically.

"I'm a big fan of cheesy," Poe says. Somehow Finn could already tell that about him. An idea strikes.

"Hey, so my friend and I do these movie nights on the weekends. She really likes the show too. You could come watch it with us, if you want," Finn offers, then immediately feels embarrassed. There was no part of that that wasn't incredibly dorky. Poe seems surprised by the offer. "Unless you're busy or something, which is also fine--"

"Buddy, I haven't been busy in years," Poe laughs, his smile wide and genuine, to Finn's relief. "Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great, awesome! Saturday?"

"I'll look forward to it."

They say their goodbyes, and as Finn makes his way down the last few flights of stairs, he hears Poe start humming again.

~

Finn doesn't smoke as often as he did in the 40's, back when it was stylish and even considered healthy in moderation, though he still finds that it calms his nerves. He's not sure if it's the physical act of it or the revisiting of his youth that makes him feel that way. It helps that he doesn't have to worry about damaging his health anymore. But he does worry about damaging Rey's, which is why he leans his head out of the open window and exhales into the chilly night air.

Rey flops down on Finn's couch, a large bowl of popcorn perched in her lap that she fully intends to eat entirely on her own. She wanted to pop the kernels using the fire spell she'd been working on, but Finn wouldn't let her risk burning the building down. So she settled for the microwave. She kicks her combat boot clad feet up onto the coffee table. "You're sure you want me to be here tonight?"

"Get your feet off my table. Who raised you?" He stubs his cigarette out in an old coffee mug turned improvised ash tray. "Of course I want you here. Why? You got somewhere better to be?"

"No, pretty much never. I'm just making sure you really want me to chaperone your date."

"I don't think this counts as a date, Rey," Finn argues. He doesn't tell her that her presence makes him feel less anxious. She probably knows anyway. "And if it was, what if I did need a chaperone? I don't know much about this guy. Just that he's cute and funny. He could be a serial killer for all I know. What if I needed your strong arms and/or magic powers to protect me?"

"Do they make cute and funny serial killers?"

"Yep." He closes the window and sits down next to her. "That's how they getcha."

"Well, you're already dead, so if he was a serial killer I think you'd be fine. Even without these strong arms." She flexes and kisses her bicep, making Finn laugh.

"True. But really, we're just gonna watch tv. That's not date worthy."

"Finn. Sweet, elderly Finn," Rey says, slowly shaking her head at his apparent naivety. "Allow me to explain to you the phenomena of 'Netflix and chill'."

A knock on the door, on time exactly, interrupts her before she can elaborate on the intricacies of 21st century mating rituals. Before Finn goes to answer the door he does a quick scan of the small studio apartment for anything bloodstained or otherwise vampire-y. Aside from the cartoon bat patterned sheets Rey bought for him last Halloween, he doesn't see anything too telling.

His nerves peak as he reaches for the doorknob. It's been a long time since anyone besides Rey has been in his home, even longer since he's tried to make a new friend. _Here goes,_ he thinks as he opens the door. "Hi," Finn greets, hopefully friendly enough to mask his anxiousness.

"Hey," Poe says, smiling in a way befitting of his nickname. Finn leads him inside to where they have Netflix queued up.

"Rey, this is Poe. Poe, this is Rey. She can't say hi to you because she's literally crammed her mouth so full of popcorn that she can't talk, like some kind of feral child," Finn introduces, sitting down next to her. Rey waves. Always the picture of elegance.

Poe laughs and waves back. He takes a seat on Finn's other side. "I was promised cheesy aliens, if I remember correctly."

"And cheesy aliens you shall receive," Finn assures, hitting play. Rey hums along to the high, whistling notes of The X-Files Theme song.

On screen, a minor character is killed by an unseen creature just off camera. Mulder and Scully banter flirtatiously. An alien bounty hunter melts a man into a puddle of lime-green goo through the awkward magic of 90's CGI. Rey laughs, "God, these effects."

"Hey, this was high tech at the time," Finn defends.

"If you say so, old timer."

"Old timer?" Poe repeats with a laugh. It brings out the cute little crows feet by the corners of his eyes, Finn notices. "If he's old then that must make me ancient."

"Finn's ninety-six years old," Rey says, tone matter-of-fact though Poe clearly takes it as a joke. Still, Finn elbows her in the ribs when Poe's not looking, universal best friend code for "stop saying weird shit to my crush".

"You're not ancient," he says. He looks Poe up and down, assessing. "You're, what, 30? Early thirties?"

"You'd be surprised," Poe says vaguely. Finn doesn't press. The living are so sensitive about aging, though he supposes he can't really blame them. "But you look pretty good for a ninety-year-old."

Was that flirting? That felt like it could have been flirting. Finn can't even remember the last time he flirted. Fuck, he's so out of practice.

"Ninety-six," Rey corrects before Finn can figure out a response. He's almost thankful. "His birthday was last week."

The rest of the night passes without any more awkward allusions to Finn's immortality. He has a good time despite having to explain all of 90's references. Rey and Poe bond over their shared knowledge of conspiracy theories and their ability to catch popcorn in their mouths when thrown from great distances. A firm foundation for any budding friendship.

Rey ends up falling asleep on Finn's shoulder after a few episodes. She works too hard, too many long hours at the hospital, Finn thinks. He carefully maneuvers off the couch without waking her to go have another smoke. For some reason he's feeling nostalgic. Poe takes one too when Finn offers. They stand shoulder to shoulder in front of the open window, speaking softly so as to not wake Rey.

Poe drags in a deep lungful, holds it for a moment before blowing a long trail of smoke out into the wind. "Man, I haven't had a cigarette in years."

"Did I just knock you off the wagon?" Finn asks, already feeling guilty.

"Nah, I'm fine. And it would be my own fault if I wasn't," Poe says. He sounds sure but Finn still feels bad. "Thanks for inviting me tonight. It's been... kind of a long time since I've just hung out with people." He grimaces. "That sounded less weird and sad in my head. Sorry. I don't get out much these days."

"No worries, I don't either. If you wanna come again next weekend, you can." He bumps Poe's shoulder with his own. "We'll get you caught up on pop culture."

Poe smiles. The mix of moonlight and incandescent street lamps paints his face a combination of blue and orange. "Yeah, I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it."

Finn walks with Poe to the door. He promises to pass on to Rey that it was nice meeting her and that her thoughts on the Roswell coverup were very insightful. They each say a "see you next week" and Poe leaves, waving goodbye and closing the door behind him. Finn just barely stops himself from sighing dreamily like some kind of romcom character. Embarrassing.

Rey wakes with a start at the sound of the heavy front door closing, looking around blearily in the way that one does after waking up somewhere that is not their own bed. "Are you gonna stay the night?" Finn asks her.

"Yes, please." She yawns. "Is Poe gone?"

"He just left. You scared him away with your snoring," Finn says, grabbing one of the extra blankets off of his bed and tossing it to her.

"He likes you," Rey sing-songs. She walks up, blanket wrapped round her like a cape, and gives him a congratulatory punch on the shoulder. Finn scoffs. "He does! You guys are gonna get married and have little half-vampire babies, I know it. And I can be Cool Aunt Rey and teach them magic."

"Please don't teach my hypothetical children to magically burn things. Hypothetical parenting is hard enough as it is."

"Whatever. He clearly likes you. Name your babies after me." Finn throws a pillow at her.

~

Finn pokes a small hole through the top of a blood bag and inserts a straw. The bendy kind, because why not. He's allowed to have fun. As he drinks his blood (B-positive), he paces over to where he keeps his record player. The shelf above it and a few milk crates to the side house his vinyl collection. It's not too expansive, as he only has so much room, but it spans genres as well as decades. He has them less out of an appreciation of the classic vinyl and more out of habit. Many of them are originals, decades old and scratched with use despite the care Finn takes with them. He decides he's gong to educate Poe on music when he comes over tonight. Finn was serious about getting him caught up.

After that first night, Poe started visiting semi-regularly, at least once a week and always at Finn's invitation. Normally Finn would feel bad about taking up so much of Poe's free time but his social life seems about as lively as Finn's, which is to say not at all. He's yet to decline one of Finn's invites.

He enjoys this time spent with Poe. Sometimes they watch movies, sometimes with Rey. Sometimes they play chess, which Poe likes even though Finn always wins. Sometimes they just talk. Finn tells Poe some of the stories he's gathered over the century, never mentioning that most of them took place decades ago. Poe tells Finn about growing up on his parents' farm, about all the books he's read, about how he used to be a pilot but hasn't flown in years.

They always hang out at Finn's place, which is perfectly fine by Finn. He's still not sure which apartment Poe lives in but he knows it probably isn't vampire-proofed. Maybe he always has his windows open. Maybe he cooks with a lot of garlic. He seems like a guy who cooks, which Finn somehow finds charming even though he doesn't eat.

He likes Poe a lot, he admits to himself with no small amount of sadness. He never planned on liking him this much, knowing that nothing can come of it. Poe is young and his heart beats and one day he'll die, preferably comfortably and in his sleep, maybe surrounded by the family he could one day build with another flesh-and-blood human being. And Finn will still be an old man in a young body, slurping stolen blood through a bendy straw alone in his one-room apartment.

But feelings don't just go away because you ask them to. And Finn feels as if he's walking on air whenever he thinks about Poe. Almost like he's hovering a foot off the ground. No, wait-- shit, he's actually hovering a foot off the ground. He lets himself drop back down.

With his feet firmly on the floor again, he refocuses on his records and finding something good. Poe is so far behind that it almost seems he's doing it on purpose, but Finn's okay with starting with the basics. He's kind of glad that vinyl is trendy again. It makes good records easier to find. He flicks through the shelf, searching for something suitable. Poe seems to like things that are older, Finn's noticed. Maybe he's a bit of a hipster.

Later, when Poe knocks on door, Finn answers with a record in each hand. He holds up Fleetwood Mac's _Rumours_ in one and Talking Heads' _Speaking in Tongues_ in the other. "Pick one," Finn says in lieu of a hello.

"Is that Fleetwood Mac? I think I remember them." Poe takes the record from Finn's hand, turning it over to look at the back cover. He half sings, half hums a bit of _Rhiannon_ , quiet and half-remembered but still recognizable as he follows Finn towards the record player. "They used to play that song on the radio all the time. Doesn't look like it's on this album, though. I'm not sure if I ever got the chance to listen to this one."

"Are you serious? Even _Rumours_ is too current for you? This album came out in '77! You weren't even born yet." Poe opens his mouth as if to defend himself, but shuts it and shrugs. Finn plucks the record back from Poe's grasp, shaking his head in disapproval. "Fleetwood Mac it is, then." He sets the record spinning, lowers the needle, and Lindsey Buckingham's voice fills the room.

"You really knew what year that album came out just off the top of your head?" At Finn's nod, Poe pulls another album off the shelf. Depeche Mode's _Violator._ "What about this one? What year was this?"

"1990," Finn answers immediately.

"Impressive." Poe holds up another, Frank Ocean's _channel ORANGE._ He cocks an eyebrow expectantly in a wordless challenge. Finn accepts.

"2012," he says, just as quickly as before. Poe pulls out yet another. Dolly Parton, _Jolene._ "'74."

Another. Mos Def, _Black on Both Sides._ "'99."

Daft Punk, _Discovery._ "2001." Sonic Youth, _Daydream Nation._ "'88." Carly Rae Jepsen, _Emotion_. "2015."

Poe barely even touches Billie Holiday's _Stay With Me_ before Finn answers, "'55."

Poe pushes the record back into place on the shelf. "What year were you born?"

"19-" Finn very nearly says the truth, just barely stopping himself. He's supposed to be twenty-three. What year would make him twenty-three? "1994," he answers a moment too late.

"Caught ya." Poe's smug smirk might be annoying if it wasn't also a little bit sexy. "Buddy, you are not twenty-three."

Finn huffs a dry, humorless laugh, but he doesn't try to deny it. He busies himself flipping through records so he doesn't have to meet Poe's eyes. He's never been a great liar. His still, vestigial heart is in his throat. "You tripped me up. That's cheating."

"Maybe a little bit. Can I ask you a weird question?" Finn thinks he knows what's coming, but he nods anyway. "Are you a vampire?"

He turns to look up at Poe, hoping for one of those joking smiles but not finding it. He laughs anyway. "What would make you think that?"

Poe holds up a hand and counts the evidence off on his fingers. "For one, you knew what year _Jolene_ came out before you knew your supposed birth year. I've never seen you eat. Your skin is sensitive to sun. You have, and I quote, 'a severe iron deficiency'. Rey makes fun of you for being old constantly. And last but certainly not least, you have fangs, dude. Fangs."

Finn self-consciously presses his lips together tightly over his teeth. Damn it. He was hoping Poe hadn't noticed those.

"So your secret celebrity theory is out, huh?" He manages to sound much more casual than he feels, but Poe obviously doesn't buy it. He's still looking at Finn expectantly, maybe even hopefully. He doesn't look like someone ready to run away.

It would be easy to laugh him off, to act like Poe's the odd one for even believing such a thing. But he doesn't want to. There's something about Poe that makes Finn want to tell him everything. An honesty in his face that asks for Finn's honesty in return.

Alright, fine. Fuck it.

Finn lets out a deep sigh before tugging at his shirt collar, exposing the two small teeth marks where his neck meets his shoulder.

"I knew it!" Poe almost reaches out to touch the scars, but thinks better of it and pulls his hand back. "Well, I didn't _know_ it, per se, but I was almost sure. Man, I would have looked like a real asshole if you weren't. 'Oh, you're not a vampire? Oops, my mistake.' Can you imagine? But this is so cool, though! You're a vampire! I didn't know you guys really existed!"

"You don't seem scared," Finn observes. Not that he has any reason to be but that's the reaction Finn would expect. Poe's handling it fine. He doesn't seem at all shaken. In fact, he might even be excited. Oh, god, he's not one of those Twilight people, is he?

"You're not scary. You sleep on cute Halloween themed sheets," Poe says. A fair point. "And even if you were scary, I'm already dead so, y'know, no big deal."

Of all the things Poe could have said, Finn was expecting that the least. Is he messing with him? "Do you mean that literally or in a figurative 'dead inside' sense?"

"Dead both inside and outside, baby," Poe says, laughing like he can't contain his happiness. "You wanna see something cool?"

Poe rolls up his sleeves and wiggles his fingers as if about to do a magic trick. Smiling brightly, he raises his hands and with a snap of his fingers, that smile, along with the rest of him, vanishes. "Ta-da!" calls Poe's disembodied voice. "Still here, by the way. Just invisible."

Finn stares at the space where Poe's body was just moments ago (where it technically still is) and doesn't speak for a moment as he processes. This is certainly a development. "You're a ghost?"

"I can't tell you how happy I am-" Poe reappears, still wearing the same bright smile "-to not be the only dead guy around here anymore."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to update for halloween but I'm late :(

They both have questions, of course. It's not every day you find out your new friend and (at least on Finn's side of things) massive crush is also undead, against all odds and logic. Finn's never met a ghost before. Poe's never met _anyone_ like them before. The two of them sit facing each other from opposite ends of Finn's couch, trading questions for answers.

"So, how do you get your blood?" Poe asks, somewhat tentative though they agreed that they could ask each other anything. If there was a question they didn't want to answer, they could just say so and move on. Still, it's hard to gauge what is or isn't appropriate to ask about each other's (after)lives.

"Rey sneaks some out from the hospital she works at. I don't feel great about it, honestly, but there isn't really a better option. They don't exactly sell human blood at the farmers' market," Finn answers. He looks Poe in the eyes and promises, "I don't hurt people."

Poe gives him a smile that somehow manages to be both reassuring and teasing. "I didn't think so. I've seen you cover your eyes during violent movies."

"Hey, I'm a tender soul," Finn defends. Well, he's not technically sure if he still has a soul, but that's irrelevant. The conversation pauses when Rumours spins to a stop and Finn stands to go put on another record. Poe missed out on synthpop, Finn realizes and is so deeply saddened by that fact that he immediately starts sifting through his 80's albums.

His back is turned as he does so but he can still feel Poe's eyes on him, almost like a lingering touch to the back of his neck. He wonders if that's a ghost thing. Or maybe he's just not used to being looked at these days. People used to look at him a lot back when he was alive. He vaguely remembers being handsome, or at least others telling him so. He wonders if that's still true or if the years have somehow worn on him. It's not like he can look in the mirror and see for himself. He thinks about the pair of eyes on him and tries to imagine what they're seeing, hoping it's something they like.

With a new record spinning out poppy new-wave, Finn turns back around. Poe's eyes quickly dart away, suddenly very interested in the coffee table, and if Finn didn't know any better he'd say Poe looked almost sheepishly. Like he'd been caught staring. Finn allows himself a satisfied smile.

By the time Finn sits back down, Poe seems to be finished with his examination of the furniture enough to ask, "So do you have super strength and mind control powers and all that? Can you shape-shift into things?"

"No, I'm not an X-Man," Finn answers with a laugh. Poe's eyes light up at the reference, finally one he understands in this new century. "I don't age, it takes a lot to hurt me, and I can levitate a little bit. That's about as far as my 'superpowers' go. It's more weaknesses than anything else. Not all that interesting, really."

Poe scoffs but follows it up with a smile. "'Not all that interesting,' he says. Buddy, you fascinate the hell out of me."

"Alright, I guess I can see how the vampire thing might be kinda cool," he concedes with a shrug. It's not entirely without perks. He has a built in excuse to sleep through the day.

"The coolest. Though for the record, I thought you were cool before I knew about the vampire thing," Poe says. "Anyway, I think it's your turn to ask a question."

For a moment, Finn considers asking how Poe died. But he's wary of touching what could easily be a sore spot, digging up painful memories set to a soundtrack of bouncy synthpop. He decides against it. Now that he thinks about it, he's not sure if he even wants to know. So instead he asks the less direct question, "How long have you been a ghost?"

Poe thinks for a moment, a look of concentration on his face like he's trying very hard to remember something. "So let's say, hypothetically, that I don't know what year it is."

Finn's been there. You lose track after a while. The numbers don't matter so much when you don't change along with them. "Then, hypothetically, I'd tell you that it's 2017."

"In that case, forty years." So he's from the 70's. That makes sense, Finn thinks.

"So..." He hesitates, trying to think of how to phrase his next question. "Does your soul have some kind of unfinished business? I mean, you're the first ghost I've ever personally met so I'm no expert, but I feel like most ghosts I've heard of have something important keeping them here."

"I'm not sure. But I've thought about it a lot. I lived a pretty good life, I think, even if it was short. I didn't have any enemies I swore to haunt, or a great star-crossed romance, or anything like that. My theory is that some souls just get lost in the shuffle, you know? Hundreds of thousands of people dying and being born every day has to be a lot to keep track of. I'm sure there are clerical errors."

"So the cosmos misplaced your file, basically?" Finn summarizes.

"Yup. You could say I'm the loose change in the universe's couch cushions."

"Huh." Finn wonders where he would fit into this theory, hovering somewhere in the middle, lost in translation. Then he decides to table the existential crisis for another time. He nods to Poe. "Your turn."

"How'd you become a vampire?" Poe asks, as Finn figured he eventually would. "If you don't mind my asking. You don't have to answer."

"Ran into the wrong hungry person at the wrong time. I think that's how it usually goes." It's a simple response but Poe doesn't press for details. Finn's not sure he could recount the whole story even if he wanted to. They say every time you replay a memory in your head, part of it erodes away. After more than seventy years, Finn's worn holes in this particular memory like an old pair of jeans. His hand unconsciously finds it's way just beneath his shirt collar to rub at the bite mark there, the way it sometimes does when he's feeling especially old. Poe's eyes seem to follow that hand.

"Can I see your scar again?" he asks. "Is that a weird thing to ask? My social skills are still kinda rusty."

Finn laughs a little, glad to be broken out of that train of thought before it got too melancholic. "Maybe, but I don't really mind." He shifts a little bit closer and waits for Poe to follow suit before tugging his shirt collar to the side, enough to expose the two small puncture wounds at the base of his neck.

Poe's hand moves up and stops just short of touching. He looks up and meets Finn's eyes. "Can I--" he starts, but Finn just nods and tips his head back slightly in invitation. The first thing Finn notices when Poe's fingertips connect with his skin, brushing over the two points of scar tissue, is the warmth. Even in his ghostly state, Poe's hands are warm against Finn's cold skin. He's almost glad that he doesn't have a pulse because he's sure Poe would be able to feel it race.

"Wow," Poe says, and then it's done and his warm touch is gone. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to gawk at you or anything like that, but it's just..."

"It fascinates the hell out of you?" Finn finishes, and he's glad he's sitting down because the smile Poe gives him might have made him weak in the knees. He wants, immediately and desperately, to feel Poe's hands on him again.

"It feels really good to have somebody who understands the whole--" He gestures at the both of them. "--'dead' thing."

"It really does," Finn agrees. It really, really does.

"Us undead weirdos gotta stick together, right?" Poe smiles his charming, Cute Neighbor smile, which reminds Finn of something.

"Speaking of weirdos, did I mention Rey's a witch?"

"She's a what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read & reread this shit so many times that I can't tell if its good or not so sorry if it was boring!
> 
> But hey I also have an [art blog](http://fridaseyebrow.tumblr.com) if you wanna look at that. I do mostly star wars stuff there too


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I suck at updating consistently ;^( but pining, ahoy!

Finn's library card is technically in Rey's name. Apparently you need a photo ID to get one these days, which is inconvenient for those who don't show up in photos but Finn has become quite adept at finding loopholes over the years.

He likes this library despite the photo issue. It's an old brick building, but new sections of building have been added on through the years, each slightly more modern than the previous. Finn likes the way they feel like products of different eras stitched together, and the way the your sense of place subtly changes with the lighting and the tiles on the floor and even the smell of certain rooms.

He makes his way up the main staircase to the floor with the hobbies and "how to" section. No one talks about how crushingly _boring_ immortality can get. In the beginning, Finn saw his newfound abundance of free time as a silver lining of his... condition. He could learn all the new skills he'd wished he had time for, he reasoned. But less than a century in and he's already all but mastered embroidery, chess, the harmonica, calligraphy, origami, solitaire, card tricks, coin tricks, tricks involving both cards and coins simultaneously, and most recently, knitting. After knitting the sweater he was currently wearing and more scarves for Rey than she could possibly know what to do with, he decided it was time to move on to the next thing.

Finn skips the cookbook shelves entirely, the covers of which show rows of smiling people brandishing cake decorating tools at him. He can't quite get creative with his food. Though he did try blood popsicles once in an attempt to shake things up. They were kind of a let down.

He peruses the books, looking for the next new way to soak up his excess time. Maybe he could try whittling? No, he should probably steer clear of anything potentially involving sharp wood. Coding? He's lost track of technology these past few years. Birdwatching? They'd all have to be nocturnal. Finn sits down crosslegged on the floor. He might be here a while.

Eventually he decides on  _Basic Figure Drawing_  and  _Indoor Gardening For Beginners._  Those seem manageable and safe. With those selected, Finn makes his way towards the U.S. history shelves and tries to find a book that is both comprehensive and fairly up to date. Because a certain spirit Finn knew had sizable gaps in his knowledge of the last forty years, and one day he's going to say something like, "Ronald Reagan, the actor" and Finn doesn't know if he's qualified to explain all of the last four decades.

Finn wishes Poe's soul wasn't bound to one location so that he could bring him to this library. Well, not _just_ so he can bring him to the library, but still. Poe likes books, Finn's learned, and despite his outdated understanding of music, film, and television, his knowledge of books was a bit less spotty. Like Finn, he also had more time than he knew what to do with. So he borrowed books from his neighbors, which is easy when you can pass through walls and turn invisible at will. It was between that and wandering the halls (not haunting, Poe didn't like the h-word), which he also did a fair amount of.

He didn't like entering people's homes uninvited, but when your soul's final resting place (the word "resting" used loosely) happens to be a residential apartment building it becomes sort of inevitable. Most people have at least a few books, and most of those people don't notice if one goes missing for a while as long as it's promptly returned when Poe's finished with it. In exchange, he'd do their dishes or fold their laundry, or some other small act one could maybe convince themselves they'd completed and simply forgotten about rather than the work of a benevolent specter.

"I suppose there are worse ways to spend your immortality than reading," Finn had said when Poe told him this, aiming for reassuring but once he'd said it, worried it came out more dismissive. Thankfully Poe didn't seem to take it that way.

"I don't know if I'd call myself immortal," he had argued playfully in that way that Finn sometimes thinks could maybe be flirting. "Because I definitely did die. I guess I'd say I'm more post-mortal, since I already got the dying bit out of the way." He then proceeded to tell Finn about the time he read _Where The Red Fern Grows_ and cried so hard he passed through the floor.

So it seems like a good idea to check out a history book for him, for reasons practical and personal. He wants to do something nice for Poe just as much as he doesn't want to explain history, and he doesn't know how if Poe has a use for knitwear so for now this seems like the best option. A sort of present just to let him know he thinks about him. Maybe not exactly how much he thinks about him, because at this point it's a bit too much for Finn's own comfort. But a nice spontaneous gesture never hurt anyone, right?

~

He ends up waiting until Poe's almost out the door to give him the book. He's worked it up in his mind to be a bigger deal than he knows it really is. That tends to happen. Poe's hand is literally reaching for the doorknob when Finn interrupts him, feigning forgetfulness, "Oh, wait, before you go--"

He quickly walks away and comes back with his stack of library books, takes the one meant for Poe off the top and holds it out. "I'm assigning you homework."

Poe turns around, looking a little confused but ready to play along. "Homework, huh?" He's now fully turned away from the door, his attention back on Finn. This little presentation seems to have the added bonus of stalling Poe from leaving just yet.

Finn isn't sure where Poe goes when he walks out of this apartment. Every time he leaves, part of Finn feels the urge to ask him to stay, to sleep on his couch at the least (though he's not even sure if Poe sleeps). He never quite builds up the nerve to ask, even though some days he's almost sure Poe would say yes. He runs the scenario through his head every time, weighing the risk versus reward of extending the invitation.

But at some point the imagined scenario usually shifts. Finn's imagination finds some excuse for Poe to abandon the couch and crawl into bed with him. Where the fantasy goes from there depends on which sort of lonely Finn's feeling in that moment. Some nights he imagines laying next to Poe, playing with his hair and listening to the steady sound of him breathing. Maybe while Poe's hands run softly and sleepily over his skin.

Other nights, he imagines threading his fingers through Poe's curls and listening to hot breath panting in his ear, while Poe's hands do whatever they please.

Lately it's been the second option more and more often. But either way he's always a little embarrassed to look Poe in the eyes the next time they see each other. Just as he's a little embarrassed now, handing over this dumb book he's built up so much in his head.

It's from a public library, complete with what looks to be a coffee stain and crinkly lamination that had seen better days, but Poe takes it from him and smiles down at it as if Finn had just handed him a priceless first edition. After a moment he looks up again, meeting Finn's eyes. "This is really sweet of you," he says, still grinning.

"It's no big deal," Finn says with as casual a shrug as he can manage.

Poe's about to say something else when the book falls through his hands, straight _through_ them as if his flesh wasn't even there, and hits the floor with a thud.

"Shit." Poe stoops down to pick it back up and looks a little flustered when he rights himself. "Sorry. That happens sometimes when I get too, uh, distracted to focus on staying--" He bumps this fist against his chest with a solid _thump_ sound in demonstration. "Corporeal."

"What does it feel like?" Finn asks, curiosity getting the better of him. "Passing through things, I mean."

Poe shrugs. "It doesn't really feel like anything. It's kind of like dust in sunlight, you know? It looks like there's something there you can touch but you put your hand through it and can't feel anything." Poe holds out a hand to Finn, palm up like an offering. "Here."

Somehow putting his hand in Poe's is simultaneously the easiest, most natural thing in the world and the most nerve-wracking. For just a moment the inexplicable warmth of Poe's skin seeps into Finn's, travels like a current up his arm to his chest to swirl nervously around inside his ribcage. He tries not to think about how long it's been since he's held someone's hand.

Then his fingers suddenly close around nothing. He watches his solid hand move through Poe's ghostly one like it's nothing more than a light projection. Poe's right, if he closed his eyes he wouldn't know there was anything there at all.

"Trippy," Finn says and Poe laughs.

"So now you know what it feels like," he says. His hand retreats back from Finn's space and Finn's regretfully does the same.

"For a second there I thought maybe you just wanted to hold my hand," Finn says, an honest statement disguised as a joke.

"Well, that was part of it too," Poe says and, because he's the worst, winks. Finn wishes he knew if he meant it. If only mind-reading was on the list of vampire perks. (Not that he'd actually use it if it was.)

Poe takes a look at the remaining stack of books and picks up _Basic Figure Drawing_. "You didn't tell me you were an artist," he says, his tone scandalized as if Finn had been keeping some great secret from him, to which Finn laughs.

"I'm not. I picked 'basic' for a reason."

"Well, maybe you could draw me one of these days," Poe says, posing a little and bringing his hands up in a frame around his face. It looks much more attractive than it reasonably should given that he's only joking around.

"Yeah, maybe." Finn had already skimmed through the first few pages of the drawing book. Drawing, it said, is mostly just breaking things down into shapes and lines. He's no artist yet, but he looks at Poe's face and does his best to mentally chart it in curves and edges like a topographical map. It should feel strange and clinical thinking of someone just in shapes but it doesn't. Poe is beautiful. Finn wonders if Poe ever looks at him like this, looks at his face and thinks its beautiful. He knows Poe looks at him sometimes but there are so many different ways to look at a person. There are so many ways to be looked at.

He must be looking at Poe oddly now because he asks, "What?"

"Nothing," Finn says, about as smooth as an Indiana freeway in winter. He swallows and repeats uselessly, "Nothing."

He way he holds Finn's eyes says he's not convinced, but he smiles and bumps his fist against Finn's arm, the touch solid again. "Thanks for the book." He turns and walks back to the door. "I'll see you later, Finn."

He lets him go this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artist!Finn is a head canon I'm very attached to and I'll shoehorn it into everything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy halloween!! shout out to the people who are here bc they saw the rating go up

It had been lightly raining when Finn walked to Rey's, ideal weather for the photosensitive. Now an unexpected cloud break has him stuck there until the sun goes back down so he figures this is as good a time as any to practice his drawing. They sit on opposite sides of Rey's bed, Rey trying her hardest to be a good model and hold still.

"Are you holding your breath? Rey, you don't have to be _that_ still." She exhales and Finn laughs as he continues sketching. He's trying charcoal. It's staining his fingers black and the drawing doesn't really look like her but practice makes perfect.

Rey's bedroom is one black cat away from being cartoonishly witchy. The mysterious jars overflow from the kitchen in stacks throughout the room. There's a tall bookshelf holding titles like _Advanced Sigil Design_ and  _Transmutation: Creating Change_ and _Divination for Fun and Prophet_ interspersed with the occasional mystery or sci-fi novel. There's even a broom in the corner, but it's probably for actual sweeping rather than midnight flights.

"So how are things going with the friendly ghost?" she asks. She had taken that particular piece of news as if it was the weather forecast. Finn's sometimes both impressed and concerned by how completely unflappable she can be.

"Fine," he says with a noncommittal shrug.

"Just fine?" she prods.

"Just fine."

Rey looks at him like she knows he's playing dumb. "Come on. You would tell me about how cute he was before you even talked to him. And he's so completely your type. It's like there was a Build-A-Boyfriend service just for you and it made him. You hang out all the time and you're telling me things are just 'fine'?"

Finn scoffs. "How would you know what my type is?" He hasn't dated anyone since before she was born. She's right of course, but that's beside the point.

"I know you," she answers. "So what's the deal? Are you not into him anymore?"

Finn hesitates before answering. He's not sure he really wants to talk about this with her, but he knows how persistent she can be. "I didn't say that."

"Good. Because he likes you," she insists.

"You don't know that," he insists harder.

Finn can tell she wants to argue otherwise. He knows why. He knows that Poe looks at him. And that he laughs when Finn's jokes aren't actually funny. And that sometimes it feels like there's something fragile hovering in the air between them that could be broken so easily and Finn wants to break through it so badly but doesn't know if he should.

"Fine," she says in the "I'm dropping it" tone of someone who is absolutely not dropping it. "Just wait out your romantic tension until the heat death of the universe." That's been his plan so far.

Finn sighs, not really bothering to hide his frustration. He's not sure if he's frustrated with her or with the discussion topic. Probably both. "So what if he does like me, Rey? Will he still like me when he sees me drink blood? He knows it happens but he's never seen it. When I sleep for a week straight because I have all this time and nothing better to do with it? When he has to be careful if he kisses me unless he wants a surprise lip piercing?" He didn't quite mean to say the last one out loud.

The look she's giving him is much too close to pity for his liking when she says, "So maybe he'll just be careful if he kisses you."

Finn suppresses another sigh and looks at the floor. She's not getting it. He's a freak. Maybe someone could look past that for a while but the shine will have to wear off at some point. He doesn't say any of this out loud because he knows she'll just try to reassure him. She'll try to relate, citing her quirky spell books and the magic she uses to help people. Sometimes the last thing you want is to be reassured.

"Hey," she says to his sudden silence. She shuffles closer and pokes him in the side so he looks at her. "I just want you to be happy. You always look so sad."

"I'm not sad."

"Finn," she says firmly. He knows better than to lie to her. She continues, "And I can tell he's sad, too. You'd be good for each other. You could make each other feel less alone."

"I'm not totally alone." That's not a lie.

"Yeah," She twines her arm through his. "But you deserve more than that, Finn. You do."

She squeezes his arm and he lets himself believe that, if only for right now. "What if I forget how to be a boyfriend?"

"Well, you're a good friend." She knocks her shoulder gently against his. "That's half of it, I think."

"You're a good friend too. _Pushy_ , but good."

"I am pretty great."

He reaches up and smears a streak of charcoal across her cheek.

~

Finn hates sleeping alone, though he does it every day. A heated blanket and an extra pillow are no substitute for a body in bed with you.

Finn traces his fingertips up and down his own arm, a habit he'd formed years and years ago. He can close his eyes and imagine it's someone else's touch. It's a little embarrassing when he thinks about it too much, though there's obviously nobody around to witness it. At this point it feels more masturbatory than actual masturbation, a subject he's no stranger to. Though he's been trying to avoid it as he's been unable to keep a certain man from phasing into his head. But of course he sometimes gives in.

He mostly imagines Poe doing the same, finding some empty, abandoned part of the building, going invisible and trying to be quiet (though in Finn's head he fails, and Finn imagines all the beautiful noises he'd make). Finn wonders what he thinks about. When he's feeling patricularly self-indulgent, he wonders if Poe ever thinks of him. If they're getting themselves off thinking about each other.

Finn rolls onto his back and grinds himself against the heel of his hand.

Or maybe Poe doesn't get himself off at all. Maybe he hasn't had an orgasm in decades. He could be pent up and needy, desperate to be touched and kissed and felt. Desperate to be touched, just like Finn. The thought sends a shiver through Finn's body. He wants to touch Poe so, so badly. He wants Poe to want to touch him in return.

With a noise of frustration, he shoves a hand down his pants and touches himself instead.

~

Rey falls asleep ten minutes into the trio's  _Alien_ movie night. Finn turns the subtitles on and the volume down so as to not disturb her once the action picks up.

On Finn's other side, he can feel Poe shifting. He assumes he's just moving into a better position until the weight of Poe's head rests against his shoulder.

"You're not gonna fall asleep on me too, are you?" Finn asks, keeping his voice low despite the electric charge the gesture sends through him. Curly hair tickles his jaw when he turns his head to look at Poe.

"No, just getting comfortable," Poe promises.

Finn squeezes his eyes shut just before the baby alien bursts out of John Hurt's guts. When he reopens them, Poe is looking up at him and laughing a little. Finn shrugs his shoulder, not enough to dislodge him but enough to be annoying. "You hush."

"I didn't say anything," Poe argues, but he's still smiling. They spend a few minutes watching the muted action on screen (which Finn can barely pay attention to) before Poe pipes up again, "What were you doing in the 70's?"

Finn thinks back, trying to put dates to memories. "I worked a few different jobs, always night shifts, obviously. I'm kind of a retiree at the moment." He gestures at the tv. "Mostly I did a lot of this, just tried to kill time. I enjoyed disco while it lasted. Oh, and I briefly dated a nice werewolf. Big and hairy was in back then if I remember right."

Poe stares up at him in open-mouthed shock. "You dated a werewolf?"

Finn's straight face cracks and he laughs quietly. "No, I'm joking."

"Oh," Poe says with a note of something that sounds suspiciously like relief. He elbows Finn lightly for messing with him. "Wait, disco isn't a thing anymore?"

"Not really. 'Dead as disco,' as they say."

Poe seems to take a second to mourn but recovers quickly. "I was just thinking about if we would have met back then."

"When you were alive?"

"Before I was dead as disco, yeah."

Finn thinks about the immeasurable number of strangers he's crossed paths with over his many years. "Could be. Maybe we walked by each other on the street or in the grocery store and didn't even know it."

"I think we would've been friends."

"We'd have one less thing in common," Finn says, attempting to keep his tone light, forcing his fear into the mold of a self-deprecating joke. "Things might have turned out differently when you found out about the the whole vampire thing."

"I wouldn't have been scared of you, if that's what you mean," he says with unamused certainty. "You think you're so scary but you're just a guy."

"But I'm not," Finn reminds with a certainty of is own. "I'm not just a normal guy."

Poe lifts his head and looks him in the eyes, freezing him like a deer in headlights. With uncharacteristic seriousness, he says, "You don't scare me."

How long has his face been this close? For a second Finn thinks he sees Poe flicker. Not for the first time, Finn realizes that all he would have to do is lean in and they'd be kissing. All he'd have to do is touch Poe's face, reach up and wrap his hand around the back of his neck and kiss him and--

Rey lets out a loud snore, snapping Finn out of his imagination and effectively sapping all tension out of the room. The two men look at each other before dissolving into suppressed laughter as she continues to snore.

Their giggles eventually die down and Poe's head finds its way back to Finn's shoulder just as Finn starts to miss it. Poe indicates to the three of them on the couch. "This is nice. This little Island of Misfit Toys we got here."

Finn feels the shared warmth of Rey's feet tucked under his thigh and Poe's head on his shoulder. "Yeah, it is."

They turn their attention back to the movie, watching in companionable silence until Poe breaks it with a yawn. Finn whispers, "You can fall asleep if you want to. I was just messing with you earlier."

"And miss out on you reacting to horror movies?" Poe says as though the suggestion is absurd, but his heavy eyelids say otherwise. Eventually, Finn feels Poe relax and his breathing deepen and even out. Finn smiles, small and private. It feels like there's a crack in that fragile thing between them.

Poe's body then fades from view, though Finn can still feel the heat and weight of it against his side. "Poe?"

Poe startles before he reappears. "I'm awake," he says in the voice of someone who was definitely not awake.

"You sure?" Finn asks, amusement in his voice.

He rubs at his eyes. "Yeah, I'm up. What'd I miss?"


End file.
